


Flames

by kate_the_reader



Series: The season [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Ficlets, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/pseuds/kate_the_reader
Summary: Fire isn't cheerful, not to Crowley
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The season [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564690
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Flames

Fires — humans love them at this time of year, always have. Yule logs blazing in the hearth of a lord’s hall, warming all privileged to draw near, even — sometimes — an enigmatic knight in black armour. Feasts cooked on open flames. Chestnuts roasting on a brazier during a winter colder than any can recall.

Most of them were never unlucky enough to witness execution by fire.

But Crowley has seen heretics punished for asking questions, for refusing to accept the word of priests, people who just wanted to understand for themselves, who just wanted to read God’s Word in their own tongue.

Crowley has seen innocent women, lonely women, women who refused to bend to men, accused of dealing with Satan, screaming as the flames consumed them.

And Crowley has been inside a burning bookshop, certain the one being precious to him was lost forever as the walls fell in and books flared and died.

And Crowley has driven through fire, has driven in fire itself, to get back to that one precious being.

And Crowley has been inside hellfire meant to end that precious, holy being, that wholly precious being.

He has not told Aziraphale everything about that, preferring to laugh with him over his antics in the holy water bath. He had been delighted their deception had worked, happy that Aziraphale seemed to have enjoyed being Crowley, taunting demons and an archangel alike.

He chose not to tell his angel how he was taunted — the scorn, the utter contempt, he had witnessed, of the lowly demon allowed to mock him, of Gabriel’s derision. He has kept that inside, despite wanting to be honest with him, despite wanting not to hold anything back. He holds nothing of himself back, but in this, he has given Aziraphale a gift of not-giving, of not-telling.

Fire — people like it. Even now, when they don’t need it, they are drawn to flames. They gather around a fire to tell stories, gaze into it, bask in its dancing light, warm themselves by its glowing embers.

“It would be lovely to have a fire in a little grate, don’t you think, my dear?”

Crowley suppresses a shudder, offers a non-committal hum in response.

“Pity all the grates in central London were blocked up decades ago.”

Crowley could unblock a grate, would have no compunction violating a city by-law. But he doesn’t offer, and Aziraphale doesn’t ask.

One day, he might overcome his horror, as he had overcome his horror of heretic-consuming fire and sat by other grates in other homes.

One day, he might overcome his horror of Aziraphale-devouring fire and sit with him by a little grate in their home, the flames painting his pale hair golden, even as they make Crowley’s flare redder.

One day, fire might mean home, might mean comfort.

Not yet though. Not yet.

_Prompt: Fire_

**Author's Note:**

> This got dark, and not at all Christmassy. Once Crowley started thinking about fire, the inevitable happened. But I really do believe that one day, he will sit with Aziraphale by their own grate, in a cottage sitting room lined with bookshelves, and the horrors will be overcome.


End file.
